


hope is the thing with feathers

by theevilcleavage



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:12:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theevilcleavage/pseuds/theevilcleavage
Summary: There is a girl in Ivy's chemistry class with dark, cherry lipstick and cotton candy highlights in her hair.





	

There is a girl in Ivy’s chemistry class with dark, cherry lipstick and cotton candy highlights in her hair. 

She shows up half an hour late to the first day of lecture, flashing the professor a small, guilty smile as she hurries to find a seat. 

That’s the first time Ivy sees her, dressed in a pair of short shorts and a skin-tight shirt that reads “Daddy’s Little Monster” in big, looping letters. There are heavy rings of makeup around her eyes, dark and precise, stark against the blue of her irises. Her hair is down in loose, tousled curls, and each strand starts out bright blonde and bleeds abruptly into other colors at the ends. Her nails are short and chipped, painted a shiny black that matches the soles of her sneakers, and there are small studs decorating her ears. 

Ivy watches, transfixed, as she moves toward the back of the hall, a black bag slung over her shoulder. There’s something about her, something besides her pretty face and long, lean legs that draws Ivy in. It’s something intangible, but pregnant, and Ivy struggles to identify it. 

The girl eventually takes a seat a couple of rows in front of Ivy, humming quietly as she rifles through her bag for a pen. The boy next to her nudges her lightly, offering up one of his own, and the girl’s dimples peek out as she offers him a lopsided smile. 

For the next hour, Ivy watches with great attentiveness as the girl draws tiny doodles in the margins of her notebook and all over the back of her hand. Before long, her notebook is covered in tiny hearts and squiggles, and Ivy can even make out the occasional ‘J’ drawn in large bubble letters. It is only once the period comes to an end that Ivy comes to the stark realization that she hasn’t written down a word the professor has said. 

That unfortunate pattern continues into the next few weeks, as Ivy finds herself repeatedly distracted by the pretty stranger who dozes off during class and bites anxiously at the back of her pens. 

Ivy is starting to worry that her chemistry grade is going to plummet if she doesn’t start paying attention to the lectures. 

It’s difficult, though. Especially today, since the girl with the cherry lipstick is sitting right in front of her, a little to the left, so close that Ivy can smell the fruitiness of her shampoo and pick out the two tiny freckles on the back of her neck. Her hair is up in matching pigtails and she’s chewing loudly on a large wad of bubble gum. After a while, clearly bored with the lecture, she flattens the gum on her tongue and starts blowing small, pink bubbles.

Ivy watches the first bubble grow to the size of a ping-pong ball before it bursts with a soft ‘pop’. As the second bubble forms, reaching twice the size of the first, a girl with short, brown hair sticks out her index finger and pokes it.

The bubble pops and most of the girl’s gum ends up all over her mouth and chin. Her eyes go comically wide as she turns toward the culprit. 

“Kitty!” she whines, elbowing the other girl in the side. “That wasn’t nice!”

Her friend smirks and shrugs her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she says. “But it was funny.”

The professor turns back toward the class, satisfied with everything he’s just scribbled down on the whiteboard. Ivy tears her eyes away from her mystery girl to squint at the notes he’s written, jotting down her own simplified version in her notebook. 

At some point, in the process of copying down the notes, her pencil slips from her grip and lands under the desk in front of her. With a long-suffering sigh, Ivy moves to retrieve it. She is more than a little bit surprised when she comes face to face with the blonde girl in the pigtails, who is holding out the fallen pencil for her to take. 

Ivy knows she’s blushing, but she still manages a soft ‘thanks’ as she takes back the pencil. Their fingers brush lightly during the exchange, and soon the other girl is blushing, too. 

“Um…happy ta help.”

Ivy opens her mouth to say something, maybe introduce herself or ask for the girl’s name. But their professor chooses that moment to dismiss the class for the day, and the opportunity is lost to her. 

But just before she turns to leave, the girl with the cherry lipstick spares a glance back at Ivy, flashing her a warm smile that Ivy will daydream about for the next week. 

* * *

In the early months of fall, Ivy spends most of her afternoons wandering through the campus gardens.

It’s always quiet there, since most of the students and faculty don’t even know that the gardens exist. Ivy stumbled across them in her earlier college years and immediately fell in love, relaxed and at home among the green. As it turns out, the gardens were originally meant to surround a large greenhouse for the botany students, back when the school was more invested in its research programs, but the project was eventually discarded, leaving a wealth of imported trees and rare plantlife hidden at the edge of campus.

Ever since Jason, and the painful experiments that rendered her less-than-human, Ivy has spent a great deal of time connecting with the earth. She walks through the gardens as often as she can, enjoying the way that the plants respond to her. They curl around her ankles and brush lovingly at her cheeks, rejuvenating her, embracing her as one of their own. 

On a warm Tuesday afternoon, Ivy is wandering through the gardens, basking in the warm sunlight, when the girl with the pink and blue hair stumbles through the brush and appears in front of her. 

Ivy is so surprised by the abrupt entrance that she almost conjures up a few vines to defend her. She is glad that she doesn’t, especially when she recognizes her intruder. 

“Hey,” the girl says, waving as she nearly trips over a large tree root. “Remember me? From chem?” She steadies herself and fixes Ivy with that bright, cheerful smile. 

Ivy nods, but finds herself too nervous to speak. 

“I’m Harley,” the girl continues, brushing at her cheek with the back of her hand. “Pleased ta meetcha.”

Harley, Ivy thinks, her eyes flitting carefully over the other girl’s face. 

It fits.

“My pal Eddy said he knows you from freshman year,” Harley says, when she doesn’t receive a response. “He told me you might be here. You’re Pamela Isley, right? Kitty says you’re real smart.” 

Ivy tenses.

“Don’t call me that,” she says. “My name is Ivy. I’m not Pamela anymore.”

“Yeah,” Harley replies, unfazed by her rudeness. “I getcha. I used ta be Harleen, but now I’m just Harley. It’s like a whole new me!”

Ivy blinks at her.

“Yes, I…suppose that’s similar.”

Harley grins, like she’s happy to have some common ground. 

“I, uh…I didn’t know anybody hung out in here,” she admits, pulling a small twig out of her hair. “Like, ever.”

“Not many people do,” Ivy says. She busies herself with smoothing out the nonexistent creases in her dress. “But that’s why I like it here. No people, no noise…just nature.”

“Oh.” Harley’s expression falls, and she suddenly looks a bit sheepish. “Then I guess ya probably don’t want me here messin’ that up. I’ll just get outta your hair, then-”

“Wait.” Ivy’s fingers curl gently around Harley’s wrist, tugging her back a step. She is surprised at her own forwardness. At how desperately she wants this girl to stay. 

“Harley, I…” Ivy falters, unsure what to say. In the end she chooses the easiest option and asks, “Why were you looking for me?”

“Oh.” Harley blushes, scratching at the back of her neck as she deliberately avoids eye contact. “I, uh…I wanted ta introduce myself, I guess. I’ve seen ya in class. Chem class, I mean. I’ve been meanin’ ta introduce myself for a while, but I guess I was just kinda-”

“Nervous,” Ivy finishes, nodding her head. “I get that.”

Harley shifts in place, like she isn’t sure how to proceed, and Ivy realizes that if she wants even a sliver of a chance with this girl, she’s got to pull herself together and take the lead. 

“Harley,” she says, hoping she doesn’t sound as nervous as she is. “Can I show you something?”

Harley smiles kind of shyly and nods, and Ivy releases the breath that she’s been holding.

“Okay. Follow me.”

She leads Harley down a small, winding path, careful to move at a slow pace so that her companion can keep up with her. Within a few minutes, they’ve reached another section of the gardens, a clearing that looks out on the majority of tropical flowers and rare species.

The clearing is breathtaking, and although Ivy has traveled this path many times, she is still struck by the beauty of it. There are flowers of all kinds, all colors, berries hidden in the brush, tall trees with openings where warm sunlight filters in. It’s absolutely stunning, and Ivy feels a familiar warmth rise up inside of her.

She has always appreciated beauty. 

Harley gasps beside her and turns in a slow circle, taking in the impressive collection of flowers and rare plant life surrounding them. 

“Wow,” she breathes. But soon enough her smile returns, small and playful. “You really know how ta romance a girl, Red.”

Ivy flushes and bites her lip. Harley’s teasing her - she’s schooled enough in social cues to get that - but how much of the flirtation is genuine? Is it possible that Harley might like her, too? That she’s just as nervous and hopeful and terrified as Ivy is? 

“Does that mean you like it?” Ivy asks. 

“Um, duh!” Harley says, grinning broadly. “Ooh, ’specially these yellow ones. They got a name?” Harley pokes one of the flowers and watches it spring back into place. 

“They’re called magnolias,” Ivy replies. “And I like them, too.” She reaches out to stroke the petals of a small, wilted flower, channeling her energy into the stem and roots and gently willing it to live. Under her attentions, the small flower springs up, stronger and healthier than before. 

Thankfully, Harley doesn’t notice her little display. She is already leaning over the flowers, her nose brushing gently against the soft petals of a large magnolia. She closes her eyes and inhales, slow and deep, allowing the floral aroma to overwhelm her senses. Ivy fleetingly notes the soft, curving petals of the yellow magnolias; in the right light they almost match the color of Harley’s hair. 

Before she can stop herself, Ivy takes a steadying breath and says, 

“Go out with me.”

Upon hearing those words, Harley straightens back up, and for a while the words hang heavily between them.

“Huh?” Harley blinks at her, her eyebrows furrowed. “Go out…like, on a date?”

Ivy nods, and even as hope flutters around in her stomach, she steels herself for the possible rejection. Harley is quiet for a long time, fueling those awful fears, until she finally surprises Ivy by breaking out into giggles. 

“No fair!” she laughs, her eyes sparkling. “I was gonna ask you!”

“You were-” Ivy squints at her, allowing the words to sink in. “Really?”

Harley nods, still giggling, and before long Ivy is laughing along with her. 

If Harley notices the tiny flowers blossoming all around them, celebrating this new development, she doesn’t say a word about it. 

* * *

Harley shows up for their date in a black halter dress and tall, three-inch heels, turning the heads of nearly every man in the restaurant. Ivy stands by their table, completely blown away, and watches her approach. For the very first time, she understands why all of the men around her have always made such a point of staring. 

Ivy doesn’t think she could look away even if she wanted to. 

“Wowza,” Harley says, her eyes widening as she takes in Ivy’s dark green dress. “You-I mean, just, ha, you-”

“Right back at you,” Ivy says, unable to hold back her smile, and she takes her seat at the table.

* * *

Harley always seems so relaxed and comfortable in class, but tonight she’s all nervous energy and shy smiles, stealing occasional glances at Ivy from behind her menu as they try to decide what to order.

She also talks a mile a minute, jumping from one topic to another, gesticulating wildly with every story she acts out. 

Ivy kind of loves it.

She’s so charmed by this girl, by her pretty smile and her exaggerated hand movements and the way she nearly sets the table on fire when she knocks over the candle sitting between them. She wonders if Harley can see it on her face, just how far gone she is. 

At some point in their conversation Harley stops herself mid-sentence, glancing sheepishly up at Ivy.

“Red?” Harley pauses for a moment, biting at her lip. 

“Yes?”

“Am I…am I talkin’ too much?” 

“Oh, way too much,” Ivy affirms, reaching across the table to squeeze Harley’s hand. “But don’t stop.”

All at once, the dejected look on Harley’s face fades away and is replaced with a bright smile. And then right away she’s back to describing Selina Kyle’s boyfriend in exhaustive detail, right down to his hero complex and the amount of money he spent on his Porsche. 

“Who even has that much cash?” Harley demands, stabbing another ravioli with her fork. “Well, I guess Selina does, but at least she isn’t all broody about it.”

“Selina?”

“My best girlfriend,” Harley explains, talking around a mouthful of pasta. “You gotta meet her!”

“All right.”

More than once, Ivy’s gaze flickers down to Harley’s right arm, to the scars on her forearm and the bruises around her wrist that have only just begun to fade. Ivy is pre-med, and she’s taken countless psychology courses over the years. She knows what a victim of abuse looks like. 

She won’t ask about any of that tonight, though. They’re only just beginning, and she doesn’t want to scare Harley away.

But she thinks about pressing kisses to those dark bruises, and wrapping her arms so tightly around Harley Quinn that no one will ever be able to hurt her again. 

* * *

She kisses Harley a week later, right outside the campus library.

It’s a windy day, chillier than most, and Harley’s nose and cheeks are adorably flushed by the time Ivy catches up to her. Not for the first time, Ivy is struck by how pretty she is.

Maybe that’s the reason Ivy throws caution to the wind and leans in. Or maybe it’s because Harley offers Ivy her jacket and her scarf, even though Harley is the one shivering from the cold. 

Or maybe it’s because she’s been dreaming about kissing Harley Quinn since the first time she laid eyes on her, and she doesn’t want to wait a moment longer.

Whatever the reason, Ivy rises up on her tiptoes, her arms wrapped loosely around Harley’s neck, and captures her lips in a soft kiss. 

Harley responds with a rushed, unreserved enthusiasm, like she’s been waiting a long time for this, too. They exchange short, hurried kisses as Harley presses closer to her, circling her arms around Ivy’s waist and gripping at the material of her dress. 

By the time they pull apart, they are both blushing and Ivy is struggling to catch her breath. 

Harley reaches up to brush her thumb against Ivy’s lower lip.

“Wow,” she breathes, her eyes shining. Ivy nods her agreement.

They’re silent for a moment, still pressed tightly together, their noses brushing. 

Harley breaks the silence first, bouncing eagerly on her toes. 

“We should totally do that again.”

* * *

Harley takes her out for ice cream after midterms are over.

Her favorite place is a short walk from campus, and Harley happily leads the way. For most of the walk she asks Ivy back-to-back questions about what kind of pet she would get if she adopted one. When Ivy chooses a cat, claiming that they’re low maintenance, Harley giggles and tells her that she and ‘Kitty’ are going to love each other. 

At some point during their stroll, Harley reaches over for her hand. For some reason the movement catches Ivy by surprise, and she instinctively jerks away. Harley blinks, surprised, and Ivy catches the severely dejected look on her face just before she covers it up with a smile.

“This way,” Harley chirps, and as Ivy follows her, she kicks herself for her reaction. 

She takes a few deep, steadying breaths, reminding herself that Jason Woodrue was one man, just one, and that Harley would never abuse her trust like he did. Would never violate her or hurt her.

She repeats these things to herself, a silent mantra that eventually gives her the courage and strength to reach forward and take Harley’s hand.

Harley immediately glances down at their hands, and a small, relieved smile tugs at her lips. That smile widens considerably when Ivy raises their joined hands to press a kiss to Harley’s fingers.

* * *

Harley drags her to a carnival for their second date.

It’s noisy, Ivy thinks, and the glare of artificial light is sure to give her a headache. The grass they’re walking on is littered with bits of confetti and garbage, and worst of all the whole park smells like some horrible combination of buttered popcorn and fried cheese.

Ivy should be absolutely miserable, wandering through a place like this. And maybe she would be, if she didn’t have Harley pressed up against her, smiling that bright, disarming smile as she leads Ivy through the park.

Harley takes everything in with unabashed enthusiasm, pulling Ivy through the House of Mirrors and from one rollercoaster to the next. There are games set up all around the carnival, and Harley insists that they play as many as possible. 

At one point Ivy wins her a giant stuffed dog from one of the stalls, and Harley hugs her so tightly that Ivy’s face turns a little bit blue. 

They are standing in line for slushies, at Harley’s insistence, when a small crowd begins to form nearby. There are a few clowns standing at the center of the circle, performing a routine that is clearly targeted at toddlers and young children. One of the clowns, the one wearing a green wig and a silly red nose, pokes the flower pin on his chest and sends water squirting out into the audience. 

The kids in the audience giggle, but Harley flinches, her grip on Ivy’s hand tightening.

“Harley?” she says, but Harley isn’t there with her anymore. She’s somewhere else, somewhere darker. Ivy recognizes it from her own lapses. “Harley. Look at me.”

Harley blinks a few times, tearing her eyes away from the clown to stare at Ivy. She starts to apologize, but Ivy shushes her.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” she says. “But…what happened just then?”

“I, um,” Harley shrugs a bit, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. “I guess I don’t like clowns so much, heh…”

Ivy doesn’t push the issue any further, not just yet. But she does wrap her arms around Harley’s shoulders until the other girl stops shaking. 

* * *

The first time Ivy invites Harley to her apartment, she cooks a big, elaborate dinner for her. 

She is nearly finished when Harley arrives, bouncing into the kitchen to find out “what the hell smells so good”. When Ivy explains that she’s made dinner for them, Harley is so touched and so excited that she throws her arms around Ivy’s neck and kisses her. 

Ivy barely has a chance to turn off the stove before Harley has her pressed up against the kitchen counter, her fingers digging into Ivy’s waist as they share fast, urgent kisses. 

Harley is a wonderful kisser, Ivy thinks, and a part of her wants to spend the rest of the night just exploring Harley’s mouth with her tongue. She could spend every night like that, and every day, too, kissing this girl until their lips are red and bruised, until the world ends and everything around them fades to nothing. 

She thinks she could kiss Harley Quinn always, every day, for the rest of her life. 

She is still stuck on that thought as she lifts Harley onto the kitchen counter and stands between her legs, pressing gentle kisses to her neck. 

But then everything shifts out of place when Harley’s fingers move down to tug at her shirt, lifting it up a few inches. Her intentions are clear, and for a moment Ivy freezes, panic rising in her throat. She tries not to lose herself in the memory of Jason’s rough hands clawing at her clothes. She tries to forget how it felt when he touched her, how he held her down even as she screamed for him to stop. 

She tries, but in the end it’s all too much. Struggling to stay calm, Ivy gently bats Harley’s hands away and returns them to her waist.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Harley asks, pulling back just enough for Ivy to catch the flicker of doubt in her eyes. 

“No,” Ivy breathes, shaking her head. “I just-I thought we could take things slow for a while.”

“Slow?” Harley’s expression falls. “Are…are ya sayin’ ya don’t want me?”

“What?” Ivy says, startled by the suggestion. “No, of course I want you.”

Her arms tighten possessively around Harley’s waist, pulling them closer together. 

“Then why-?”

“Harley…” Ivy presses a kiss to her cheek and smiles reassuringly. “I really like you. More than…more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time. And I really want this to work. So…would it be okay if we hold off on the physical part for a while?”

Harley tilts her head to the side, confused by her suggestion. It leaves Ivy to wonder exactly what kind of relationships Harley’s had in the past. 

To Ivy’s relief, Harley’s frown melts away after a few moments and she nods, pressing a kiss to Ivy’s nose.

“Okay, Red.” 

Harley hops off of the counter and tilts her head towards the food.

“Can we eat now? ‘Cause I’m starving.”

As Harley bends over one of the pots and inhales, her shirt rides up and leaves part of her back exposed.

It’s covered in fresh bruises, and Ivy has to suppress the pained noise that rises up in her throat, and the instinct to track down whoever gave her those bruises and make him pay.

* * *

Ivy shows up at Selina’s place early in the afternoon, long before she’s planned to meet up with Harley. She’s relieved when the door swings open to reveal a familiar, frowning face.

“Isley?” Selina crosses her arms over her chest. “How’d you get my address?”

“Bruce gave it to me. I told him I needed to see you.”

“See me? Why?”

“Selina, I…I’m really worried about Harley.”

“Oh,” Selina says, her expression shifting instantly from one of suspicion to concern. She opens the door wider, giving Ivy plenty of room to step inside. 

Ivy follows Selina into her kitchen, surprised when a small kitten rushes by her feet to mewl softly at Selina. 

“Hi, Isis,” Selina coos, leaning down to pick up the tiny kitten. She turns to Ivy. “You want coffee or something?”

Ivy shakes her head.

“No thank you.”

“Okay. So then…what’s up?” Selina asks, growing impatient. 

Ivy starts to explain, but she barely gets out the word ‘bruises’ before Selina is pouncing on her. 

“Did he try to call her?” she asks, her words underlined by an intense urgency. “If he did, you better tell me.”

“What?” Ivy says, a bit thrown by the response. “Did who call her?”

“The clown. Obviously.”

“Clown?”

Selina narrows her eyes and frowns.

“She hasn’t told you? About him?” Isis has begun squirming in Selina’s arms, her tiny nose all scrunched up.

“No. Is he an ex-boyfriend?”

Selina snorts, bending over to return Isis to the floor so she can wander freely around the apartment. 

“You could say that.”

“And he’s the one who hurt her?”

“More than just hurt her,” Selina grumbles, hopping off of the counter. “The guy broke two of her ribs the last time she tried shacking up with him. He beat her up so badly she almost didn’t make it. The hospital said she was lucky to be alive.”

Ivy blinks, a slow wave of nausea overtaking her. 

“God.”

“Yeah.” Selina shakes her head. “The Joker was a piece of work.”

“The Joker?”

“That’s what he called himself,” Selina says, her hands clenched at her sides. “The sick fuck.”

“So if Harley has fresh injuries-”

“That means he’s back in town,” Selina affirms, her jaw set. “It means he wants her back.”

* * *

Less than a week after Ivy’s conversation with Selina, Harley shows up at the gardens heavily favoring her right leg. On top of the obvious limp, there are bruises and cuts all over her arms and her lip is completely split. Ivy feels an irrational surge of anger as she closes the space between them.

“What the hell happened?”

It comes out harsher than intended, and she instantly regrets it when Harley flinches and shrinks back.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” she says, careful to keep her voice soft. She takes Harley’s face in her hands and presses gentle kisses to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Harl. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Harley nods, tears gathering in her eyes.

“I didn’t mean ta make him mad, Red. But my puddin’, he just-”

“Shh,” Ivy pulls her into a tight hug, trying to stifle the rage that is rising up inside of her. “You’re okay now, Harl. He can’t touch you.” 

Ivy stops by Selina’s apartment later that day to fill her in. Selina is shaking with rage by the time Ivy is done, and she doesn’t say anything for a long time. Then, without warning, she punches a hole in the wall.

When she pulls her fist back, her knuckles are bleeding badly. Selina doesn’t pay it any mind.

“One of these days,” she says. “I’m gonna kill that freak.”

Ivy shakes her head.

“I think I have a better idea.”

* * *

Ivy opens her palm and a flower begins to sprout, small and green until it blooms fully into a tiny pink bulb.

Harley’s mouth drops open, and her eyes flit back and forth between the flower and Ivy’s face. 

“Neat trick, Red!”

Ivy leans forward and places the flower gently in Harley’s hair, and with her hair down and her big blue eyes, Harley looks just like one of the wood nymphs from Ivy’s freshman mythology course. 

“It wasn’t a trick, Harley.”

“Huh? Whadda ya mean?”

“Watch this,” Ivy whispers, and the small vines that have been coiled around her wrists grow long and thick, and hover menacingly around her. Harley gasps, clamping her hands over her mouth. 

“Are you magic, Red?” Harley breathes, reaching out to touch one of the vines that has started inching toward her. She pets it gently and runs her fingers over it like it’s some sort of scared animal. Ivy feels the soft touches thrum against her own skin and suppresses a shiver. 

“No, not magic,” Ivy says. “Science did this to me.”

Harley giggles, like Ivy’s just told her a very silly joke.

“There’s something else I need to show you.”

Ivy pulls a small vial from her coat pocket and hands it to Harley, who inspects it closely, but doesn’t seem to understand its significance.

“Uh…is it food dye or somethin’?”

“No.” Ivy steps forward, her fingers curling tightly around the vial. “It’s for protection. If he comes near you, all you have to do is hit him with this. And then he won’t be able to hurt you anymore.”

“What is it?” Harley asks, turning the vial over in her hands. 

“It’ll get the job done,” Ivy says. “That’s all that matters.”

* * *

Ivy doesn’t ask if Harley ever uses the vial or not.

But one night she shows up at Ivy’s apartment with torn clothes and blood trickling down the side of her face, wearing a small, victorious smile. 

Ivy pulls her into a tight hug, cradling the back of her head with her hand.

“Come on, baby,” she says, leading Harley over the threshold. “Let's get you cleaned up.” 

 

* * *

It’s a Sunday, and the two of them are holed up in Ivy’s apartment.

Ivy thinks she’s finally ready to let go. To move past everything with Jason and give herself over to Harley in the most important way.

Harley is already half-naked, straddling her lap and sucking gently at a sensitive spot on her neck, when Ivy finally breaks.

“I can’t,” she blurts out, once the panic has become too overwhelming to drown out. “I can’t do it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Harl.”

Ivy tries very hard not to cry, biting down to keep the sadness in. But when Harley presses a kiss to her forehead and whispers that it’s okay, that it doesn’t change anything, she feels herself break. And she curls into Harley’s neck and cries. 

“Please don’t cry, Red,” Harley whispers, cradling Ivy against her and pressing kisses to her hair. “I don’t like seein’ ya so sad.”

“I’m sorry,” Ivy says, and she repeats it over and over against Harley’s skin.

“You don’t gotta apologize,” Harley tells her, pulling back to brush away the tears from Ivy’s cheeks. “We’ll just take baby steps, ‘kay? And we’ll try again when ya feel ready. That sound good?”

Ivy nods, tightening her arms around Harley’s neck.

“I love you,” Ivy says, and she doesn’t register the significance of those words until she sees the way Harley is looking at her.

“Ya really love me?” Harley whispers, like she’s afraid saying it any louder will make it untrue. 

“Yes,” Ivy says, and Harley averts her gaze.

“Even though I’m all messed up?”

“Harley-”

“Even if I get on yer nerves sometimes and I don’t know how ta cook?

Ivy smiles and presses a lingering kiss to Harley’s forehead.

“No matter what, Harley. I promise.” 

* * *

Ivy creates a new breed of hybrids to plant in the gardens, and she and Harley take on the new project together. 

Harley is wearing a worn pair of gardening gloves, digging her fingers into the soil to create a small space for some of the seeds. Ivy watches her pull off the gloves for a moment to brush her hair out of her face. 

She wears it down more often now.

Ivy likes it best that way.

“Hey, Red?” Harley rises to her feet and accidently steps on a bed of roses. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh?” Ivy repeats, raising an eyebrow and she glances up from her own digging. She tosses her gloves on the ground next to Harley’s and joins her girlfriend over by the roses.

Harley blushes.

“I, uh…I kinda maybe sorta stepped on some o’ the roses. I think I hurt the little guys.” 

“Oh,” Ivy says, waving away her concern. “Don’t worry about that.”

Harley bites her lip, turning her attention back to the trampled roses. 

“So ya think they’ll live?” she asks, eying some of the damaged petals. “They don’t look so good.”

“They’ll be all right,” Ivy says, brushing her thumb against Harley’s cheek. 

Nearly all of Harley’s bruises have faded away, leaving behind a girl with fierce blue eyes and a world of strength hidden inside of her. 

“Roses are tough things.”


End file.
